Laced Inside My Brain
by rycewritestrash
Summary: Clarke spends her dying moments doing something reckless. Bellamy may or may not approve. [Also, this entire fic takes place inside Clarke's brain and I have zero regrets. At least not at the moment-will reassess later.] (Season 06 - Canon Divergence - Two Bellamys? - Clarke's Mindspace - Mild Memory Loss -Angst & Smut & Mild Fluff - Angst with a Happy Ending)


Clarke didn't want to accept death at first, no matter how tempting it may have sounded. She pulled herself together, fought like hell to defeat _that woman_ invading her body; _and she_ _did_.

Yet she's still here, trapped inside her mind, blind to what is going on outside of her head with no way of waking herself up as far as she can tell, her memories slowly disappearing one by one on the walls of her cell.

It's easier to give up when she doesn't remember what she's losing, knowing something has been erased from the empty spaces, but unable to recollect what _ it _ is, who she is missing, or why she should keep caring in the first place.

Might as well enjoy what's left of her while it lasts.

Which is how she ended up back in this moment. Unity day, celebrating with the original delinquents, Bellamy's hooded gaze trained on her, the fire setting his pupils ablaze with a brightness she doesn't want to forget, but knows it's only a matter of time.

_ Fuck it. _

She changes course, goes after what she didn't have the courage to chase all those years ago, before the Earth became their Hell, and all the good things they tried to hold onto turned to ash in their grasp.

"I'll have my fun when the grou-"

The sentence doesn't make it out, cut off with her mouth latched onto his, her tongue tracing the dying words on his lips.

Clarke's pretty sure this isn't exactly what people meant by, _ your life flashes before your eyes before you die_, but she's certainly not complaining.

Palms gripping her hips, teeth scraping her neck, she's shoved back against the nearest tree. The noises around camp fade into the breeze, until there's nothing but the crackling sound of the fire, gasped moans, wicked whispers onto sticky skin-unmarred by the future tragedies that bestow them.

They could have had so much time like this. How different would things have been if they were attached from the very beginning? The head and heart, colliding into one body, oblivious to where she ends and he begins.

Maybe then they could have counted their losses with a few fingers left to spare.

"I have plenty to spare, princess." Her breath hitches at the snap of a button coming undone, knuckles sliding past her underwear, rubbing against her clit.

"How-" She hisses, unable to continue the thought out loud, bucking up against him.

"It's _ your _ brain." He chuckles, pressing his nose to her cheek. "You can't hide from me. I'm you after all."

"Creepy," she grumbles, sliding her pants down her legs to give him better access.

He cocks a brow. "Brings a whole new meaning to _ fucking yourself _, doesn't it?"

She snorts. _ Her _ Bellamy would know when to keep his mouth shut, or at least put it to better use. "Cut the witty banter, Blake. I don't know how much time I've got left."

His eyes flicker with something uncertain and she's terrified the part of her that's not ready to die is waiting to break free just below the surface-just in time to ruin one of the few good moments she has left.

_ Not now _ , she begs, mouth close. _ Let me have this, please. _

Her eyes drop to the apple of his throat when he swallows, a sharp nod in her direction. The fear building up in chest is released from her lungs in a huff of relief.

It's a frenzy of movements after that, shucking his jeans and rucking up her shirt, bare skin sliding against hers, the pressure and pain she'd always imagined at the first thrust of him filling her up.

If it has to end this way she wishes it could be now, with the taste of his heartbeat on her tongue and salt on her lips.

"I love you," she murmurs, knowing he knew the words to come before they escaped her, because he's _ her. _

She's going to die without knowing if she ever got the chance to tell him.

Her mind drifts back to her body, wondering where she is on the outside. Is she alone? Is there anyone crying for her to wake up?

"Clarke?"

She's shivering in his arms, as he holds her up with the weight of his thighs, the heat of his skin replaced with something cold and frigid.

_Death. _

"Not yet, princess." His breath like cool frost on her neck. "Your mind is playing tricks on you and you're letting it."

A strangled scoff leaves her throat. "You would know."

"I thought _ talking _ was off limits?"

She rolls her eyes. "The _ real _ Bellamy would never listen to me without a fight."

He pulls back, eyeing her warily. Her bare feet touch the floor and he sits her down.

They are no longer in the woods, but the room where he chained her to the table after she begged him to let her fix them.

His lips curl up. "Kinky," he notes, nodding to the handcuffs on her wrists . . . and the fact that she is still very much naked while he's knelt before her fully clothed.

His thumbs press her knees apart and she gasps with want, eyes sliding shut. "You dreamt about this," he accuses. "With Lexa lying next to you in _ her _ bed."

"Shut up," she snarls, making room for him between her thighs.

His brows furrow. "I thought you wanted me like this-all bark, no bite." She sucks in a breath the closer he gets to where she craves him. He shoots her a tight-lipped smile. "Or is it the _ bite _ that you need?" He then his sucking a bruise on her skin between her legs, spreading them wider.

If she wasn't turned on beyond the brink of sanity, she might have noticed the slight change in the air the moment her vision went black, the shadow blocking the light from seeping through the cracks of her closed lids, or perhaps recognized the strangled gasp that didn't belong to her or the specter of the man lapping at her folds, dipping his tongue into her core.

"You're not supposed to be here." He growls, vibrating against her clit, just enough to push her over the edge. Her eyes blink open, a sense of impending doom overcoming her with her release, the intensity much more than she ever remembers experiencing in the real world.

But that also might have had something to do with the fact that there's a new figure in the doorway, someone a part of her subconscious must have known was there before she could fully process his presence. A _different_ Bellamy, with clothes she doesn't recognize, frown lines that could only come with years of worry, poorly hidden by a beard she never pictured him growing.

He meets her stare just as she cries out his name. His mask of shock slips, shifting into something dark and possessive as she comes for _ him _.

And she knows something different, _wrong-_or perhaps just right, because she doesn't remember _ this _Bellamy. And she can only hope that means something more, either her memories are finding a way to return to her, or he managed to get to her from the outside.

The cuffs vanish when she repeats his name, hesitant to reach for him given what he just witnessed and the current state of her undress. "Are you-are you really here?" she whispers, rising from the metal chair.

His jaw unclenches, gaze tracing over her the ground up, pausing at the curve of her breasts hidden under reddish gold locks, tangled in braids and twists.

There's a sudden breeze and a chill. She's more exposed than before with her hair stopping just before it hits her shoulders. She attempts to cover herself and something breaks in his features, pulling her towards him and wrapping his arms around her waist, until she's covered in navy silk fabric.

A _ dress _ of all all things.

"I'm here," he mumbles into her neck, breathing her in.

"How-" she breaks, not even realizing she's crying until the salt of her tears touches her lips.

"We got the flame out of Madi. I used it to reach you."

She steps back just in time to catch him sending daggers over her shoulder at the other version of him she almost forgot was still present.

"Who's Madi?" the other Bellamy asks, arms crossed over his chest.

He wavers, glancing between her and his copy. "She's yours," he says, eyes pausing on Clarke.

Something tightens and drops in her stomach. "My _ what _?"

His mouth opens and closes a few times too many before he curses, releasing his grip on her side, to rub his palm over his face. "Shit, Clarke-you don't remember?"

She swallows hard, heart pounding in her ears. She looks away, shame rising in her throat, as she shakes her head.

"Maybe she's just not that important," the other Bellamy snarks, probably out of some need to protect herself from the guilt she's feeling.

"She's important," he retorts, through clinched teeth.

Clarke shrinks away from them both, gliding back into the chair behind her.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

"No," both of them snap at once. The other moves to comfort her, only to halt mid-step, hands held up, smirking when the real Bellamy threatens to slice his kneecaps.

"Why is he even still here?" he grumbles, leaning down to brush his thumb over the wetness covering her cheek. She blinks, surprised by the softness of his touch, despite the anger burning through his dilated pupils.

"She likes you all riled up and jealous. It gives her hope that there's more than just forgotten names and faces that she's missing."

She freezes, immediately recognizes the look of guilt crossing the real Bellamy's features.

_ Oh. _

She tries to shy away, but he snaps out of in time to tug her back up and into his arms. "Don't," he says, stern, just on the edge of desperate.

She hesitates, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm sorry about before," she whispers. "That wasn't what it looked like-I just-" She sighs. "I wanted something good to remember before I lost everything."

"You're not losing-"

"Bellamy," she cuts him off, smiling sadly. "I've already lost things. Even if I do make it back-"

"_When _ you make it back," he corrects, fingers tightening around her elbow.

"I won't be the same. There's no telling if my memories will return-or if I'll even be _ me _ anymore without them."

"I'm not leaving any part of you behind, Clarke," he says, vehemently. "I don't care how much is left. There's isn't a part of you that is not worth saving."

"_There is _ if it means you die here with me!" she argues.

"So be it if I do!"

"You have people to go back to," the other Bellamy interrupts, circling around them. Clarke fidgets, biting her lip on the words she can't say, but he isn't afraid to. "Your sister, _ Madi, _" he hisses. "Whatever lover you've left lying in your bed sheets.

He doesn't even flinch, eyes staying trained on her, narrowing at her hunched shoulders, and flushed cheeks.

"If you have something you need to say, say it. _ You- _" He gestures. "Not him." She shakes her head and he steps in closer, invading her space, pulling her chin up to face him. "You may not remember, but I'm not the most important person in your life anymore, Clarke. You have a child out there depending on you to come back for her."

She chokes on a sob, vision blurring, until they're standing in the middle of a valley. Her chest heaves, spinning around to find young girl in the other Bellamy's place. She raises her palm, to shield her eyes from the sun beaming down on them.

"She's-"

"Yours," he confirms. "In all the ways that matter. You found her, alone, surviving-you taught her how to _ live _."

"What is she supposed to think if I come back not knowing my own daughter?" she whispers, turning back to him.

"That you cared enough to love her anyways, because you _ do _. So much, more than anything."

She swallows, glancing down at her feet. "Even you?"

He nudges with his forehead. "Yes," he murmurs, resting his cheek against hers. "Although I'm hoping when all this is over that there may be some left for me too."

She hides her grin in his shoulder. "There might be," she allows.

"Yeah? I was kind of hoping. . ." The is pause is deliberate. "Considering your dying wish was to come on my mouth, apparently."

"Shut up," she groans, burying her face in his jacket. " I think I deserved to go out . . ."

"Screaming?" he finishes for her. And she swears she nearly dies of embarrassment right then and there.

But then this all would be for nothing.

"It's okay," she adds, remembering that so much time has passed that she doesn't know about. "If I'm no longer what you want-out _ there _," she clarifies. "If it's too late. We always sucked at timing." She lets out a dry chuckle, but it comes out wrecked.

His lips twist into something soft and wistful, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm done with missed chances, princess. It never mattered where I ended up, or how long you were gone. My home is with you, always."

Here breath catches, eyes dropping to his parted lips.

"Not now," he murmurs, thumb sliding under her jaw. "When you wake up in my arms."

"How do we get out of here?"

She never wants to lose sight of his smile, the gleam of hope in his eyes.

"_Together. _"


End file.
